


yours for all time

by thisismydesignn



Category: NCT (Band), SEVENTEEN (Band), SHINee, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Casual Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Penetration, Drabble Collection, Height Differences, Idols, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Sexual Tension, Smoking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26608180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisismydesignn/pseuds/thisismydesignn
Summary: 300-word standalone drabbles inspired by a variety of kpop groups. Title from the movie "300," because I am ridiculous.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Kim Jonghyun/Lee Taemin, Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Lee Taemin/Park Jimin (BTS), Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 1
Kudos: 54





	1. [nct] doyoung/taeyong, the hushed calm tells me it's alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doyoung grounds Taeyong. Gives him what he needs.
> 
> Initially inspired by Taeyong's outfit in [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjfMq-cX46Q) Final Round teaser. Chapter title from [Piece of Mind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5SIOGkxd_B0) by rookies-era TY + DY.

Doyoung tugs at the collar around Taeyong’s neck and Taeyong’s vision goes white.  
  
It’s just a moment, between one breath and the next, but when he comes back to himself Doyoung is watching him carefully, eyes wide, worried. Hands to himself. “Are you alright?”  
  
The thing is...yes. He’d been jittery, pre-shoot nerves getting the best of him, but suddenly he’s calm. Focused. Able to breathe. He nods.  
  
Someone calls Doyoung’s name. He watches Taeyong a moment longer, gauging his reaction, turning away only when he’s called a second time.  
  


* * *

  
The next time it happens, they’re seated beside one another at a company dinner: too many people, the noise in Taeyong’s head just this side of too loud. He doesn’t realize he’s bouncing his leg until he feels Doyoung’s fingers grip his thigh, white knuckled, Taeyong’s breath catching on a gasp. He looks down at Doyoung’s hand, up at his face, and Doyoung lets him go like he’s been burned.  
  
Taeyong doesn’t look away. Something has shifted: his mind is quieter, the buzzing beneath his skin bearable. Grounded. Under control.  
  
He knocks his knee against Doyoung’s under the table, deliberately this time, a silent _thank you_. The corners of Doyoung’s mouth turn up, and Taeyong knows he knows.  
  
He ignores the look Johnny sends them from across the table.  
  


* * *

  
Doyoung follows Taeyong to his room when they return to the dorm that night. He shuts the door, locks it behind them, keeping his distance as Taeyong perches on the edge of his bed.  
  
“What do you need?” Doyoung asks, never one to beat around the bush, and Taeyong tilts his head up, eyes wide. “I…” He hesitates.  
  
Doyoung switches tactics. Crosses the room, threads his fingers into Taeyong’s hair and feels him exhale a shuddering breath.  
  
“Tell me what you need.” Not a question.  
  
Taeyong goes to his knees.


	2. [nct] donghyuck/johnny, first word that comes to mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The give and take between Donghyuck and Johnny behind closed doors.

Donghyuck doesn’t fluster easily (unlike _some_ people— _Mark Lee_ , he thinks uncharitably), but Johnny has a way of getting under his skin, sometimes. Towering over him, gaze fixed on Donghyuck’s lips as he speaks: Hyuck isn’t much for personal space to begin with, but sometimes, even he feels overwhelmed.  
  
That’s not to say he dislikes it.  
  
In front of the cameras is one thing. Sometimes one of them will get too bold and the other will shy away, and sometimes they'll each give as good as they get, but it's behind closed doors—the door to their shared room, specifically—where Donghyuck finds himself slipping deeper.  
  
There are the nights they lie together on Donghyuck's bed, Hyuck wrapped up in Johnny's arms, the two of them speaking softly about any and everything, their desires, their fears, quieter than most people would believe they can be.  
  
Sometimes they'll fall asleep like that, legs tangled together; sometimes Johnny's fingers will be gentle on Hyuck's chin, tilting his face up until their lips meet. Sometimes soft, deep kisses will lead to more (and Donghyuck doesn't pretend to know enough to know if _making love_ is the right thing to call it, but it's the first thing that comes to mind).  
  
Then there are the nights that Donghyuck crawls into Johnny's bed, straddles his hips shamelessly and grinds down; the nights he's hard even before Johnny has touched him, worked up just from the way Johnny was _looking_ at him earlier. The nights Johnny grins wickedly, bites at his lower lip and gets Donghyuck under him, pressing him into the mattress; the nights Johnny gets rough, leaves bruises on his thighs, and Hyuck thinks maybe he loves those just as much as the ones on his heart.  
  
(Those nights, he knows the word: in more ways than one, he's fucked.)


	3. [shinee] jonghyun/taemin, face to face and don't run away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taemin is used to it: never quite feeling like his body is his own, never like it belongs to him alone.
> 
> Maybe it still doesn't, but Jonghyun's hands keep him steady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired, of course, by [Internet War](https://youtu.be/Zgv8tP6zsAg?t=143), but also by this iconic performance of [Excuse Me Miss](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSORaqTQykk). Chapter title from SuperM's Monster/One.

Taemin’s body hasn’t been his own for years. Not really.  
  
He's used to people touching him: to adjust his form while dancing, his body while exercising, to apply his makeup and fix his hair and make sure he's _perfect_ , or near enough.  
  
He doesn’t mind, not anymore. He can’t, if he wants to stay sane. Pick your battles, and this isn’t one he can win—there will always be people telling him what to eat, how to dress, touching his hands, hair, face, clothes—he doesn’t mind, because he can’t mind.  
  
But with Jonghyun, with Internet War, he feels like he can take back some of that control.  
  
Jjong is still the one holding the reins, the one with the upper hand, but it’s wildly, _wildly_ different, down to the way Jonghyun looks at him, doesn’t look away.  
  
He has to keep his knees from buckling the first time Jonghyun grips his hair and _pulls_ , unexpected; “That’s good,” the choreographer says, and Taemin practices until it no longer makes him flush.  
  
When they kiss, (the first time they kiss), it’s an accident, or maybe it’s not. Taemin couldn’t say which of them closed the distance first, but when Jonghyun licks into his mouth, hand still tight in Taemin’s hair, neither wants to be the first to pull back.  
  
Jjong is breathing hard when they break apart, eyes wide, all traces of his fierce stage persona gone. “Is—are you—” He trips over his words, like he knows _is this, are you okay_ aren’t the questions he should ask, not the ones Taemin wants to hear.  
  
It’s Taemin’s turn to lace his fingers into Jonghyun’s hair, drag him back in, teeth around his lower lip: he’s never been great with words, so he lets his body do the talking instead.  
  
Jjong lets him take the lead.


	4. [seventeen] jihoon/mingyu, curious of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jihoon's hand is on Mingyu's jaw, Mingyu's on his waist, but for once, it's Mingyu looking up at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jihoon saying in the Christmas episode of Going Seventeen that Mingyu always messes with his head, and then repeating it in one of the Boo Seungkwan's Past Life Destiny episodes...yeah. Yeah. Chapter title from Stray Kids' Wow!

_Mingyu always confuses me.  
  
_ It's not the first time Jihoon has thought it—hell, not the first time he's admitted it—but this time, he's not confused at all.  
  
Mingyu's perched on the edge of his bed, Jihoon standing between his legs, lifting one hand to cup Mingyu's cheek. He likes this, he finds: Mingyu looking up at him, eyes wide, full of something Jihoon recognizes but doesn't dare name. Mingyu's hands settle on his waist, hesitant but heavy, grounding him, and Jihoon lets his thumb brush across his lower lip. “Hyung,” Mingyu murmurs, barely there; Jihoon’s thumb trips across his skin, breath catching in his throat, and he doesn’t object when Mingyu’s fingers make their way to the zip of his jeans, his eyes never leaving Jihoon’s.  
  
The hand that wraps around his cock is— _good_ is an understatement, warm and skilled and larger than Jihoon is accustomed to, but he’s greedy, and when Mingyu takes his thumb between his teeth, Jihoon’s knees nearly buckle. He’s hardly even aware of his own voice, the quiet _please_ that escapes, until his fingers fall from Mingyu’s mouth, those lips curving around the head of his cock instead.  
  
He’s careful, _so_ damn careful, and Jihoon threads his fingers into Mingyu’s hair, anchoring himself even as Mingyu takes him deeper. Mingyu may confuse the hell out of him sometimes, but there’s nothing ambiguous in the way he hums around Jihoon’s cock, grip tightening on his hips. It’s a silent plea for _more_ (silent until it’s not, Mingyu pulling off just long enough to whine _hyung_ once again, mouth shining), and Jihoon wants to give it to him, wants it in a way he doesn’t usually let himself want.  
  
(Self-control in theory is one thing; in practice, it’s entirely another.)


	5. [nct] johnny/mark/yuta, too sure to let go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark returns from touring with SuperM. Johnny and Yuta show him how much they missed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. Chapter title from SuperM's 2 Fast.

“Baby,” and Mark is so far gone he barely recognizes which of them it is, Johnny’s hands in his hair, Yuta’s thumb between his teeth. “Baby, can you take both of us at once?”  
  
And that—Johnny’s cock is already buried so deep inside him, he’s _so full_ , yet somehow—somehow he still wants more, didn’t even realize that was a thing he could want. He nods, and Yuta’s fingers are replaced by his lips, kissing Mark messily, happily, murmuring into his mouth, “God, we missed you.”  
  
Minutes later—too many minutes, Mark thinks, impatient even if he knows, he _knows_ he needs the prep—Mark is lying on Johnny’s chest, kissing him until he has to break away to breathe as Yuta pushes in. Johnny’s hand on his face is gentle, gauging his reaction. “You okay?”  
  
Yuta’s lips brush the back of Mark’s neck and tears spring to Mark’s eyes. He nods again, manages, “More, please, I need—”  
  
He doesn’t finish speaking; doesn’t need to, when Yuta is already pulling back, thrusting in once more, and all three of them groan in unison, taken aback and completely fucking overwhelmed. Mark gives up on holding himself upright as they find their rhythm, Johnny’s hands on his waist keeping him steady, Yuta’s digging bruises into his hips. Mark’s neglected cock is trapped between Johnny’s body and his own, and he’s grateful that neither of them have made an effort to touch him, the friction against Johnny’s abs already dragging him dangerously close to the edge.  
  
They don’t give him even a moment to breathe, each of them filling up the space the other leaves behind. He finds himself begging when they come, "Inside, inside, _please,_ " Johnny with a shudder, Yuta a groan; Mark's breath stutters against Johnny's lips as he follows suit, overwhelmingly full, impossibly satisfied.


	6. [bts/shinee] jimin/taemin, chills at a hundred degrees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimin can't take his eyes off Taemin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by how [170804](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUtijVK_HOw) Jimin and Taemin could not seem to get enough of each other. Chapter title from Selena Gomez's Souvenir.

Jimin watches Taemin’s lips wrap around his cigarette and wants to drop to his knees.  
  
Taemin doesn’t offer him one, not anymore, and Jimin’s glad: not because he was ever tempted, but he imagines the brush of Taemin’s fingers against his own and realizes the temptation lies somewhere else entirely. _God_ , he’s whipped, desperate for even that briefest touch of skin on skin, for Taemin to curl a hand around the back of his neck the same way the smoke curls from his lips.  
  
Subtlety isn’t in Jimin’s vocabulary when he’s this far gone: he laughs too loud at Taemin’s offhand commentary, touches him at every opportunity (a hand on the small of his back, fingers dancing across his arm as he tries to emphasize a point).  
  
But here’s the thing: Taemin is laughing just as brightly, touching him right back, and Jimin’s not the only one who’s been caught staring tonight.  
  
They’ve been gravitating toward one another all night: catching each other’s gaze and exchanging small smiles, drawing closer to one another even when they’re meant to be standing with their respective groups. Pressed shoulder to shoulder so they can whisper in each other’s ears, sidelong comments that leave Jimin imagining Taemin’s breath on his neck without all these people around, with fewer clothes in the way. He wants to mess up his perfect hair, his flawless makeup, kiss the gloss and smoke from his lips and the salt from his skin and make the tension between them into something tangible, something real.  
  
Taemin drops the cigarette, crushes it beneath his heel, and Jimin holds the door for him as they make their way back inside. Just before he crosses the threshold, Taemin hesitates, eyes dropping to Jimin’s lips, blatant, shameless. “Later,” he tells him, his smirk a promise Jimin can’t wait to taste.


End file.
